


Winter Clothes

by VodkaKevin



Series: Destiel High School AU Oneshots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Bad Fashion Choices, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Castiel in Dorky Sweaters, Castiel in Sweaters, Charlie Ships It, College Student Castiel, College Student Dean, Cute Castiel, Desperate Dean, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt Castiel, January Sales, Light Angst, Loud Sex, M/M, Resolved Argument Prompt Exchange, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VodkaKevin/pseuds/VodkaKevin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel drags his boyfriend out ridiculously early to help him pick out some new winter clothing. Dean reluctantly agrees, but an argument over a fluffy cat sweater threatens to destroy their relationship. Can Dean actually use his words for once and be honest about his feelings for Cas before it's too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Clothes

**Author's Note:**

> Yoooo!! Okay so I was prompted by the lovely Itch, and this is what I came up with! Hope you enjoy!

  “Dean? Dean? _Earth to Dean.”_ Dean Winchester jumped as a piping-hot Styrofoam cup was pushed with an unnatural sense of vigour into his hand. He glanced up and felt his previously sharp grimace smooth out slightly. Had it been anyone else bothering him at this time at the morning – anyone else forcing him out of bed and into town before 9:30am– and you can bet he would have never forgiven them. Hell, he probably would have cut ties with them before you could say ‘It’s not me it’s you.’ But Castiel Novak was different – and this morning, somehow, he looked particularly handsome. His habitually-haphazard hairstyle stuck out at awkward, incongruous angles from underneath his hat as he wrapped his slender fingers round an identical Styrofoam cup and bowed his head to let the steam roll onto his face. Dean couldn’t help but feel his lips twist into a smile slightly – but no, he wouldn’t admit that he forgave his boyfriend for forcing him out of bed so early in the morning. He wasn’t _that_ easily won over.

  “Why are we here again?” he said in a begrudging voice, turning his head to stare through the glass at the shopping mall. Not only was it strangely full, but instead of strolling onwards in that strange, glassy-eyed, shopping-mall-daze, people seemed to be walking at a normal speed for once – hell, some people were even managing a speed somewhere between a walk and a jog as they flitted through the crowds with worrying expertise. He looked back to Castiel in confusion, who was also staring through the window.

  “It’s the January sales, Dean,” he said – and as awake as he might try to be, Dean could still detect that slight gravelly edge to his voice. “People come here to buy clothes for the coming winter – and some even use this time to purchase next year’s Christmas presents.”

   Dean frowned. “But how can you buy presents for friends and family now? You don’t know what they’ll _want_ for next Christmas.”

   Perturbation settled across Cas’ face too now. “I don’t understand it either,” he said, squinting at a woman in a white fur coat practically running into a boutique clothes store opposite the coffee shop. “But either way Dean, I need more winter clothing, and I’d like you to assist me with finding appropriate things to wear.”

   Dean took a sip of his coffee. “Sure thing,” he said, before tilting his head a little, “but on one condition.”

  “Which is?” Cas’ gentle blue gaze returned to him.

   The older Winchester smiled. “If it doesn’t make you look sexy as fuck, you’re not buying it.”

   Cas’ pasty features flushed a vivid pink.

   The thing about January sales is that often the garish 80% OFF!!1!!11 signs are often incredibly deceptive; some shops will pretend that everything is drastically reduced when in reality the only things that actually have had money slashed off are on one rack at the very back of the store. Not only this, but all of the things on said rack, Dean realised, looked like the only body size they would fit was some kind of malnourished gnome. He sighed, tapping his foot as he watched Castiel paw through sweater upon sweater, his previous optimism slowly starting to diminish as they reached their fifth and sixth shops. He managed to find a couple of pairs of socks in one shop, which both treated as a great victory – but as they left more and more shops empty handed, they started to face the fact that the only part of Cas that would be warm this winter was his feet.

  “I’m sure I have some clothes that you can probably borrow,” Dean said hopefully as Cas slowly looked through another section. He paused for a moment and turned to his boyfriend.

  “But Dean, that’s not the _point,_ ” he said, unable to hide the flat edge to his voice, “I wanted to find something really nice, like a warm and fluffy sweater or maybe… _Oh this is perfect!”_ For a moment, Dean wasn’t able to see exactly what it was that Cas had found – but he didn’t mind – his heart leapt for his partner. However, he found this elated feeling quickly backfiring when he saw what it was exactly that Cas had picked up.

  “Cas, it’s _beige._ And it has a _cat_ on it. And it’s _knitted._ ”

  “And?” Cas said, spinning on the spot, and a sparkle had thawed the frozen ponds of his eyes, a huge grin lighting up his face. “I like it!”

  “Cas…” But it was too late. As if this discovery had given him the powers of a 90s batman transformation sequence, Cas was in the sweater in seconds. And the older Winchester couldn’t deny it anymore. The jumper had slightly strange proportions – hence why it was probably on sale – but strangely they seemed to make sense with the odd proportions of Castiel Novak. The sleeves covered most of his hands and went down to his thighs, the V-neck revealing the scruff of his plain white shirt and a small amount of his pale skin beneath it. Something about the colour of it brought a little rosiness to his complexion thanks to the red stripe that traced the shape of the neck, the cat positioned square against his stomach, wearing the same gentle smile that Castiel himself had set across his features as he watched Dean appraise the sweater. If Cas was a jumper, he would be that jumper. And he looked fucking _gorgeous_ in it. In agreement, a certain part of Dean’s body twitched. More than anything, he wanted to carry his cute, fluffy and warm boyfriend into a changing room and fuck his brains out. He placed a hand on a nearby rack as if to steady himself. But no, that was stupid. _This was stupid._

  “Dean? What do you think?” Cas’ voice shattered the strange funk he found himself drifting into. He blinked and brought his gaze back up to the younger Novak’s. The smile looked less reassured now.

  “Um, I… I don’t know Cas. It looks a bit… you know. _Gay.”_ Dean muttered, lowering his voice at the latter word.

  “Well in that case, all the better! I want the world to know how-”

  “Cas…”

  “Dean, no! I do! I want people to know of my sexuality, that you’re with m-”

  “Cas, _stop.”_ Dean’s voice seemed to shatter the atmosphere around them with surprising force. The sweater-clad boy froze for a moment, blinking at Dean. His arms slowly started to lower.

  “Dean… there’s no problem with being _gay._ Are you really suggesting-“

  “Dammit Cas, I’m not having this conversation with you now,” Dean groaned, averting his eyes from his boyfriend. His hands were trembling suddenly. Cas was still staring at him, the smile having completely slid from his face. In seconds, he’d pulled the jumper off his body and had slammed it against the clothes rack he’d found it in. Then, turning, he stormed past Dean, bumping harshly into the older Winchester’s shoulder as he left. Dean turned, horror suddenly beginning to bubble inside of him as the realisation of what he’d done, said, _implied_ dawned on him. He tried to catch up with Castiel, but the boy simply walked faster.

  “Cas, wait!” But it was no use. The boy was suddenly sprinting at full pelt – and Cas was surprisingly fast for a dorky, skinny philosophy major, dodging between the crowds and heading for the exits in mere moments. Dean must have only been a few seconds behind him, but as he threw himself at the glass doors, Castiel had long-since disappeared into the throng outside.

  “Cas!” Dean called, but it was futile. Swearing under his breath, felt his legs give way, depositing his despair-ridden body onto a nearby bench. For fucks sake. He’d genuinely let a _jumper_ come between him and his boyfriend. His hands came up to his face, sliding down his cheekbones for a moment. What a fucking _idiot_ he was. Fucking stupid idiot.

 _BEEP!_ The sound of a text arriving almost made him jump out of his skin. Reaching desperately into his pocket, he pulled out his phone.

_If you really have that much of an issue with me being gay, maybe we shouldn’t be dating._

His blood turned to ice. No no no. He mashed the call button.

_“I’m sorry but the person you have called is not available. Please try again later.”_

  “FUCK!” Dean shouted, stamping his foot against the frosty ground and causing the January shoppers around him to start. He fought the urge to spit, to throw his phone at them.

 _Cas, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it in that way. I actually thought you looked really cute in that-_ Oh what was the fucking point in this. He screwed his eyes shut, balling his hands into fists. Why the fuck did he have to be such a fucking idiot? He didn’t deserve Cas. _He didn’t deserve him._

*

   The problem with loss is that when you first wake up the next morning, your brain hasn’t quite adjusted yet so you wake up warm and safe and happy and thinking everything is alright. At least, that’s what Castiel found, until he realised that he was actually very cold, and there were no strong, warm arms pressing him against a familiar chest, no gentle breathing rocking him slightly, lulling him back into a daze. He opened one eye. For the first time in a while, he was back in his own room on campus. This place was more of a storage room now – things he kept here that he couldn’t be bothered to move to Dean’s room, or didn’t immediately need for day to day college life, such as spare folders, a stocky metal television that looked more at home in _Red Dwarf_ than in a teenager’s college room in 2016, various pairs of shorts and t-shirts that he wouldn’t be able to wear until summer and… speaking of seasonal clothes… Cas frowned sleepily for a moment, wondering why thinking about this sent strange waves of pain thundering through his chest. Then it all came crashing back down on him. The sudden horror, the aching loss, creeping into his throat, his jaw. Castiel closed his eyes and sank back under the blanket. In a last ditch effort, he reached for his phone, under his pillow, as per usual.

_0 UNREAD MESSAGES._

   Fucking prick hadn’t even bothered to text him back after he ran away yesterday. Guess it really was over now. He sighed and closed his eyes again. He’d hibernated under his blanket like this when he was younger – when Lucifer and Michael got into their really _violent_ fights. Anna had held him softly against her as they hid and pretended the world under the blanket was a time machine and they could go 100 years into the future where none of this mattered anymore. Maybe the same thing could happen now. He could be like The Doctor, constantly running from his destructive past, not a care in the world. And maybe there would be a boy out there much more attractive than Dean, much more caring, much less of a douchebag, that would love Cas, want to be seen with him in public, and make that fucking Winchester boy seem like nothing but a memory.

   His eyes opened slowly. He didn’t want that though. He _knew_ what he wanted. And he _couldn’t stand it._

   He stumbled over to the miniature refrigerator in his room, opening it. Needless to say, there was nothing in there but an old orange juice carton, two months past its sell-by date. He sighed. He was going to have to go out and _buy groceries._ But the idea of showing his face on campus, of possibly _seeing_ Dean was an awful idea. He couldn’t make himself do it.

   Sighing, Cas slid back into bed and closed his eyes.

*

   A knock at the door a few hours later roused him. For a moment he felt himself freeze, all too aware of this strange presence and what a knock could mean. _I refuse to answer it. I know who it is._ But when a female voice rang out, Cas felt himself relax.

  “Cas? It’s Charlie.”

   Cas opened the door, completely forgetting the fact that he was in nothing but a tshirt and boxers. Charlie Bradbury, aka his best friend, stood there with her permanent rabbit-in-headlights expression. She wore her hair loose that day, one singular plait in her fringe tucked neatly behind her ear, along with the habitual Star Wars shirt and bootleg jeans. Taking in the sight of a sleepy Castiel, she blinked at him. “Cas, it’s two in the afternoon. Did you only just wake up?”

   He scratched his head. “Yeah, I uh…”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah yeah it’s…” It was at that moment when Cas realised what Charlie was holding. His mouth dropped open.

  “This has been outside your door since late last night,” Charlie said, “I think Dean dropped it off?” But Cas wasn’t listening anymore, clutching the cat jumper to his chest, burying his face in the fluffy fibres. Charlie handed him a note.

  “This was with it. You should probably make up with him, Castiel.”  
   Cas raised his eyes to hers. “Who says we’ve fallen out?”

   Charlie smirked. “Castiel Novak, not up before noon? Answering the door in little more than his underwear?” Cas blushed. “C’mon man. I don’t need to say anymore.” With that, she turned and began to walk down the hallway.

   Cas’ looked at the note, bunched up in suddenly shaking hands. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it like a little boy keeping the monsters in his closet from escaping.

_Cas,_

_Okay, I’m so fucking bad at writing about feelings but I’m gonna do my best because I figured if I don’t I’m going to lose you forever and I… I think I’d lose my mind if that happened, man. What I said yesterday was so fucked up, and I didn’t think about how it probably sounded till afterwards, and I’ve realised that I’m the biggest fucking douchebag to ever walk the earth. The truth is, you looked so cute in that jumper that I just wanted to fuck you against the wall right then and there – and that scared me a little, that you could make me feel like that. So I decided to buy it for you, as a kind of peace offering. I hope you’ll forgive me for the things I said because I love you so much Castiel Novak, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it if things ended between us over a damn jumper._

_So if you can forgive me, please please call me. My bed is gonna be so empty without you, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do if you’re not with me._

_Dean x_

   It was almost an impulse. Within seconds Cas’ phone was at his ear. The phone only rang once when he picked up.

  “Cas?”

*

   Neither of them relented that night, and as a result, there were four noise complaints – three from the flat beneath Dean’s, and one from the room on the left: a skinny, pixie-chinned boy called Garth who looked about twelve and squealed when he saw Dean’s stiff and swollen dick, after the older Winchester answered the door stark naked. Cas didn’t think he’d be able to walk the next day, and made the mistake of pulling on his new jumper as he climbed out of Dean’s reluctant arms in order to make it on time to his 11am the next day. However, he didn’t get away that easily; that jumper had begun to represent a lot more than just cats for Dean Winchester; the next thing he knew he was moaning against Dean, thighs wrapped around Dean’s hips as the boy thrusted into him with each deep grunt. As he bit into Dean’s neck, lips lapping against the skin, tongue darting beneath his teeth, Cas groaned and raised his eyes to the ceiling, feeling himself lose control, again and again and again.

   Needless to say, Cas didn’t make that 11am lecture. And, after that, the cat jumper became his favourite all-time item of clothing to wear whenever he saw Dean.

 


End file.
